


he can see the dawn

by Rethira



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9252122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: The sun rises.





	

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for ffxv!
> 
> title is from [Somnus](http://finalfantasy.wikia.com/wiki/Somnus)

The sun rises.

 

The daemons roar and gurgle as the light burns them away, but Gladio and Prompto say nothing. They regroup at Ignis’ side, Prompto breathing somewhat harshly, and Gladio’s footsteps heavy on the ground. He swings his sword off his shoulder, an old and familiar sound, and digs it into the ground. The last dying rattles of the daemons fade to nothing. The sun begins to warm Ignis’ face.

“C’mon,” Gladio says, more gruffly than usual. He turns to walk up the stairs, his shoulder bumping against Ignis’. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agrees, voice cracking. His breath hitches, and he makes no move to follow Gladio.

Ignis steps past him. “No point in waiting,” Ignis agrees, and after another moment Prompto falls in behind him.

The throne room isn’t far. Gladio and Prompto pause before the open doors. Ignis can’t bring himself to ask what they see.

“Together?” he asks, eventually.

“Yeah,” Gladio agrees, and they cross that final threshold in the same moment, heads held high and walking tall – as Noct wanted.

But their King cannot greet them. The throne room is silent, and smells of blood. There is only death present here.

The three of them stand in silence before the throne. Presently, Prompto begins to cry.

“Gladio?” Ignis asks, as Prompto is no position to explain. Ignis clasps Prompto’s shoulder, the only comfort he can give.

The words are harsh, and grief-ridden when they leave Gladio’s mouth. “He’s… in the throne. He’s… pinned there by a sword. His- the King’s-”

“His father’s sword!” Prompto shouts, throwing off Ignis’ hand. “It’s his _father’s_ sword!”

There seems to be a crashing silence for a moment after that, as if the words have stolen all the sound from the world, and then Gladio makes a broken noise and murmurs, “Yeah.” He takes a breath. “Yeah.”

And Ignis wants- he wants to _see_ , he wants to know this with his own eyes, but he can’t, so instead he reaches out and flinches away from the cool feel of the blade until his hands meet fabric and- a body.

It escapes him without thought, little more than a sob, “ _Noct_ ,” and the next Ignis knows he is on his knees clutching at- at _Noct_ who cannot and will not reply. The grief seems overwhelming, great heaving sobs tearing out of him as he presses his face against Noct’s knee. He’s vaguely aware of the others cracking as well – Prompto was already crying, but now he lets himself weep freely, somewhere above Ignis, and Gladio- Gladio’s still trying to hold himself back, but it’s a futile effort.

“ _Damn it_ ,” Gladio snaps, and moves closer to Noctis – Ignis can imagine him, pressing his forehead against Noct’s, still struggling not to cry as he cups Noct’s still face. “Damn it.”

 

It takes some time for the three of them to compose themselves. Prompto helps Ignis up from the floor, still sniffling.

“He’s, uh, smiling,” Prompto mumbles, to Ignis, and that threatens to overwhelm Ignis again.

“It’s not right,” Gladio says, louder. Stronger. He’s forcing himself to move forward. “The… sword.”

Ignis inclines his head. “Together?” he repeats, carefully reaching out to find the hilt of the sword. He’s expecting the sword to feel… different when he touches it. But it just feels like a sword.

“Together,” Prompto and Gladio agree, their hands covering his.

And, with one smooth motion, they pull it free.

 

Ignis can’t see it but… he can feel it. As the sword pulls free of Noctis’ body, there’s a surprising lack of resistance. The sword is all that was keeping him here any longer. Prompto makes a broken, wounded noise, and Gladio shouts wordlessly, a noise of mixed grief and rage. The world gets a little brighter for a moment, and something almost seems to brush Ignis’ cheek, before the light fades again.

The sword touches down against the throne.

None of them make any effort to lift it again.


End file.
